Cleaning Up

we fucked and fucked until we could fuck no more

you wanted proof of my love, my forgiveness

after you having fucked him for years -

your sweet revenge, as you called it, my folly

in the aftermath of ruined contours. torn clothing

memories of another love linger, holding firm, fast

the pleasures on sofas, beds, tables, chairs, car-seats

experiences our joint-hearts cannot let go.

someday the stars and the moon will bear testimony

and your detour will be no more than a stage

bringing you closer and closer to realisation

knowing just how we loved and how our bodies,

crazy with desires, punished us both with longing.

by Kirpal Singh